


Sea Foam, Death, Or Possibly Jail

by joufancyhuh



Category: The Little Mermaid - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Mental Instability, fairytale retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 00:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16882158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: The night before Eric's wedding to Ursula, Ariel has a breakdown.





	Sea Foam, Death, Or Possibly Jail

**Author's Note:**

> I had to do a twisted fairytale for my college creative writing class. Of course I picked this one.

Drunk, Ariel plops on the shore in her wedding dress, her empty vodka bottle falling onto the sand beside her. A wave comes and claims the discarded bottle, drenching her in the process. The water darkens her dress, staining the white as a more brackish color. She doesn’t seem to care, instead focusing her attention to the bright mansion of the cliff above her.  The sound of laughter falls from above, spring boarding along the coast and into her ears. She cries.   
  
“Stop that, little sister.” A head bounces out at sea. Ariel can see the orange of the mermaid’s fins in the moonlight.  
  
“He’s not worth it.” Another head appears, a bright flash of blue.  Other colors begin to swirl around the two heads, red and purples and gold. Six sisters smile at Ariel, and even in her despair, she can’t help smiling back at them.  
  
“I’ve missed you all,” she sobs. “Coming here was a mistake. I want to go home.”  
  
“There is a way for that to happen,” the oldest one, Attina, answers.   
  
“You’re probably not going to like it,” Arista giggles.  
  
“I think you might,” Alana contradicts.  
  
“What is it, sisters?” Ariel stands, walking out into the ocean until it reaches her waist. Waves crash against her as they head for shore. “I’ll do anything to swim with you again.”  
  
“Kill Prince Eric,” Aquata proposes.

  
“What?” Ariel gasps. “I can’t do that.” She looks to the mansion on the cliff. She thinks she can see the soon-to-be bride kiss the cheek of the prince, even from this far away. Anger and hurt flares in her chest. She clenches her fists.   
  
“What has that human done for you?” Adella purrs.   
  
“He dumped you for that stupid sea-witch, Ursula!” Andrina instigates.  
  
“Get revenge,” Alana goats. “If you don’t-“  
  
“-you’ll turn into sea foam!” Arista pleads.  
  
“But it has to be tonight!” Attina adds.  
  
“If the sun rises, your time is up.” Adella sobs.  
  
“Don’t die, sister!” Andrina implores.  
  
“Not for that no-good human boy.” Aquata nods.  
  
“But I love him,” Ariel sighs. “I can’t kill him, sisters.”  
  
“And we love you,” they protest.  
  
Attina swims to where Ariel stands and presents to her a knife. “Survive, sister. Slit his throat.”  
  
“You might as well slit Ursula’s throat, too.” Andrina coaxes.   
  
Ariel stares at the knife in her sister’s hands. She longs to swim away with her sisters, back to their reef and away from the man who broke her heart. “You gave up your fins for him. And did he appreciate it?” Attina’s voice swims in her head.   
  
“No,” the sisters chant in unison.   
  
Ariel looks up to the mansion on the cliff. The rehearsal dinner seems to be winding down, but Ursula’s singing drifts down to her spot in the water. Anger surges through her. He never would’ve met her if it wasn’t for Ariel. And Ursula was supposed to be Ariel’s best friend. Ariel shakes her head. No, that wasn’t right. Ursula was an evil witch who stole Eric’s heart from her. That was the only reason why he would have picked Ursula over Ariel. That was the reason why Eric broke off their engagement. If she hadn’t cast that spell, Eric would still love Ariel, she just knew it.   
  
Her sisters disappear from her vision. Frantic, she wades in deeper, arms and legs kicking as she fights to stay afloat. “Sisters!” she calls. Her red hair sticks to her face as pieces fall out of the bun on her crown.  
  
The heads bob in the rolls of the ocean. “Kill him, Ariel. Kill them both. Or lose us forever.”  
  
“I will, sisters! I will!” She reaches into the water and wraps her fingers around the handle of the knife. The sisters flap their tails at her as they swim away. Their absence solidifies her resolve. She pulls herself onto the beach, soaked and sandy. The knife feels light, and she brings it up to study it. The hilt is made of coral, the blade of blue and green sea glass. The moonlight shines off the blade onto her pale face. She has never seen anything more beautiful.   
  
She gazes up at the mansion, watching each light blink out one by one. The last light to go out is the bedroom, a bedroom she could see in her mind perfect. His dresser, clothes draped over the open drawers because he could never be bothered to fold. White curtains that blew in, bringing with each the smell of the sea. His bed, mattress on the floor, never made and blankets shoved into the corner against the wall. Movie posters and mirrors on his wall. A picture of them, taken when she was fourteen and he was seventeen, when they had met through their fathers at a charity ball. But no, that wasn’t right. She met Eric when she saved him from a shipwreck this year. That picture couldn’t exist. But she can see the frills of a pink dress she hated to wear and Eric in his tux with gold anchors as the cufflinks in her head.  
  
Her head starts to hurt. She looks down at the knife in her hand. It’s no longer pretty. It looks like a boning knife that she often saw Flounder use when making dinner. No, Flounder wasn’t their chef. That wasn’t right. Flounder was a fish. He was her best friend when she was in her mermaid form. She casts the knife aside and falls to her knees. Her hands dig in the sand. Where did the knife go that her sisters gave her? She digs until the sand becomes damp and hard. How could she be so careless with their gift, her redemption?  
  
She looks back to where she threw the boning knife. She finds instead the sea knife. She stumbles over and grabs it, hugging it to her. She has to be more careful. She doesn’t want to disappoint her sisters, and she absolutely doesn’t want to turn into sea foam.   
She rises to her feet, careful and slow. She feels a little woozy, but the headache is fading fast. She looks back up to the mansion. It was time to go take care of Prince Eric and Sea Witch Ursula. For her sisters, if nothing else.  
  
A seagull watches the staggering red-haired girl approach the mansion from his spot on the roof, tucked safe in his nest. There is shouting once she gets through the doors. Sirens and red and blue lights break the night. The girl is walked out in handcuffs, blood staining her dress. The raven-haired young man who lets him keep his nest on the roof walks out with a dark-haired woman. The woman looks shaken. The man looks angry. The man talks to the uniforms. There is a lot of gesturing. Then the man takes the woman inside and the cars drive away. The seagull caws. The sun rises. 


End file.
